My roommate situation has worsened again. He got drunk Wednesday night and in true Steven Paul fashion kept us up most of the night with his loud music and intermittent screaming. I wrote a message to my Mom which she hasn't responded to still that I had had enough and wanted him to be kicked out. The next morning she said she was going to tell him he had to get out or go to treatment, but that isn't good enough for me. I don't give a shit if he ever sobers up, he can die drunk in a gutter for all I care, I just want him out of my house for good. I don't want to have any more sleepless nights, no more hiding my booze and my purse because if he is drunk he will do anything humanly possible to try and get more booze and get even more drunk. Anyway, then Mom went to Halifax, so I was left with the drunk for the weekend.
And he got drunk again last night on two litres of cider and talked to himself in the kitchen and turned his music up loud and was generally an asshole again. He tried to walk away with a nearly full beer of mine and when I took my last two beers to my room to hide he went around counting my empties and trying to find my other two beers, but he didn't. It was really frustrating, especially since I am bipolar and getting enough sleep is SUPER crucial to my mental well being. So I sent Mom another message that said if she didn't kick him out I was going to stab him to death, because I really do get violent angry thoughts when my sleep is being disturbed. I don't want to have to stab him to death, I am mostly a pacifist, but it's not like it would be a big loss to society anyway considering what a useless drunk he is. I am just SO MAD!
Okay, so I probably won't stab him. Probably. But I make no guarantees. Either way I want Mom to finally grow a pair and throw the douchebag the fuck out of the house. It's not healthy for me and she is pushing ME out of the house if she doesn't get rid of him, because I simply cannot and will not live with the motherfucker anymore. I don't give a fuck if he does go to treatment, he doesn't give a shit when he falls off the wagon, he never has to deal with consequences of his drinking and it is not fair! He should go to brief and social detox and then treatment and then a sober living facility, we are not a motherfucking group home for wayward alcoholics!
Anyway, the good thing that happened this week is I did see my psychic. She didn't say anything about the alcoholic cousin, hopefully because the obvious will happen and he will get kicked out or I will find a better place to live. But she did tell me my career would do well, I just have to reach out more and she gave me advice about how to get actors to be in my stuff and so on and so forth. And she also said this interesting thing about how she couldn't figure out my relationship status because I had what she called "moths" who flit around and like getting attention from me, but she doesn't like any of them and says I won't get anything from them, it will go no where, and that I can't spend time with them if they do want to hang out with me. She said I have to stop looking at people's potential and see them for who they are right now. And she said I have to balance out my outward tough appearance with my inner soft core, because I am not attracting the right people the way it is now and I will finally start attracting the right people when I fix that. It makes sense. She says these people take advantage of me and I have to stop letting people do that. She also said I would get into my next serious relationship in roughly 8 to 9 months, and that it would last a while but end when I fall off the wagon and issues come up again. BUT then two years after that I will meet someone and it will be good. And it will last for the rest of my life. She also said this interesting thing about a fight with a female relative a while ago and how it left a big hole in my aura and that I need to talk with her and say what I mean. I know exactly who she is talking about, and hopefully we will have a conversation this weekend.
Last night I had a dream I was smoking cigarettes. The other night when Steven got drunk I dreamt I smoked pot. And I felt so guilty, I was like "Aw shit, now I have to start that three weeks again!" Clearly this shows that stress makes me think about my old comrades the cigs and weed. Dammit. I don't want to think about them at all.
It is now day 24 without weed! :D I'm a little down, and I haven't worked out much this week. That might have something to do with it. I know I am still withdrawing, it sucks. Withdrawals! Bleh. I want to be happy again dammit. Living with an alcoholic isn't any good either, it has amped up my stress and anger and diminished my mental health. I am considering if it is time to go back to the hospital, because making a plan to stab someone to death, as annoying as they are, isn't a normal thing. I probably won't do it, but what if I do?? What if his stupid asshole drinking pushes me over the edge one night? Eeep! He needs to go live at the Salvation Army with his blind alcoholic brother if he wants to keep drinking. I've had it.